


Absences Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

by WodensSkadi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 20:26:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15692763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WodensSkadi/pseuds/WodensSkadi
Summary: Junkrat believes Roadhog is dead and joins Overwatch at Reinhardt's insistence. But a glimpse of a gnarly and familiar hook has him convinced he was lied to about his partner's death.





	Absences Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArmsShanks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArmsShanks/gifts), [MurasakiDoku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurasakiDoku/gifts).



Junkrat’s hands nearly vibrate off of his body as he pulls his abandoned but not forgotten tablet into his lap. He hasn’t touched it since, well,  _ before. _ It’s been hidden away under his mattress and it’s only ever been used to connect to one other person - they only ever used it when they were apart and he has long since given up believing he’ll ever get a response. And yet he types in an old contact: Roadhog.  

 

Today he had seen a nameless enemy soldier fighting near him and Winston get ripped away by a vicious, familiar hook. He knew only one person capable of wielding that weapon so cleanly and had broken from the team, desperately tearing off in the direction it had come from. He’d headed directly into the front lines of the battle and dropped his weapons in shock.  He was sure he was going insane or dreaming but he had to know for sure— until Winston slammed down in front of him and carried Junkrat off kicking and screaming, insisting he needed to go save  _ him. _

 

He sat in unusual silence on the carrier, ignoring the multiple questions being lobbed at him in favor of staring at the floor. Once they touched down tore off from grasping hands and voices and made his way back to his room. He dragged out his hidden belongings of old, desperate to test what he’d just seen on the mission. He’s been with Overwatch for nearly a year. Roadhog was gone. Gone and dead. He had believed his partner, bodyguard, and best mate was captured and sentenced to death by the Australian government two years ago. He tried everything. 

 

The memory of Roadhog’s public execution leaves his throat dry with phantom pain. He screamed himself horse that day. He’d been in some shithole bar in Oz, knocking back piss beer when the telly advised small children and those with weak hearts to look away. He’d avoided the news for a while, convinced it was feeding him false information on his partner’s whereabouts. But this. This he wished he’d avoided as well. No one said a word when the glass slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor as he leaped to his feet. His eyes were glued to the fuzzy screen as the reporter explained that Roadhog’s expedition back to Australia from America had been rushed and since his partner’s whereabouts were still unknown he was seen as too high of a liability. His trial was essentially held by a kangaroo court and it had taken only days to find him guilty and his crimes and worthy of death. 

 

The man’s face had been covered by an awful black hood and he wore prison garb and it had been hard to imagine that was supposed to be his Roadie. But he was huge, and parts of his tattooed belly peeked out from beneath his too short shirt and a high pitched whine left Junkrat’s mouth as he continued to watch, slack-jawed.

 

It was so quiet. It was by lethal injection. No gunfight, no explosions, nothing but Junkrat’s own whimpers marked the passing of the One Man Apocalypse.  Once the heart rate monitor let out a shrill but constant noise, signaling his heart had stopped, Junkrat’s whine had hit a piercing pitch and most patrons had been wise enough to high tail it out of there; the Mad Bomber was dangerous on most days but that day required a mile wide distance.

 

Junkrat made sure they knew he still hadn’t kicked the bucket and was out for revenge. He leveled an entire city block after he left the bar. He’d gone back to his and Roadhog’s place and packed up everything that could go boom and with a single-mindedness of a madman, he headed towards civilization.

 

Reinhardt was the one who actually convinced him to join. Maybe it was the shared past of losing loved ones or the fact that having a massive goliath of a man giving him sound advice sparked a painful memory in him. Either way, he went with him.

 

But now there is only one giant he wants to speak with, and now that he is alone he is eager to discover if he had just hallucinated the whole thing. His old communicator is two way and connected only with Roadhog’s. There is a massive wall of messages he’d left for Roadhog after they’d been separated. It is upsetting to look at the desperation now - his last-ditch effort to reach him then hadn’t worked. Why would it now? He takes a deep breath and flexes his fingers before booting it up. He’s worth pushing past bitter memories; Roadhog is worth making the effort.

 

_ Junkrat: Roadhog? _

 

_ Junkrat: Mate, was that you? _

 

_ Junkrat: Please respond. Feels like I’mgoing insane. I knw ur gone buti astill don;t believe it. Pleasee say something. Anything. _

 

Minutes tick by. People knock on his door. Winston. Reinhardt. Ana. He ignores all of it as he stares at the screen, willing it to respond.  When there is still nothing after half an hour he chucks it across the room, enjoying the sound of it shattering. He immediately regrets it. What if Roadhog responded only just now and he just destroyed the only means of communication between them. Fuck. He scrambles from his bed and reaches for the broken tablet when he hears his room’s passcode being punched in. Double fuck. 

 

Reinhardt stands there staring at him.

 

“My friend, you must speak with them about what happened. Why did you break formation? You cannot be so reckless or suicidal,” Reinhardt says as he approaches him.

 

“I saw him,” Junkrat says.

 

There’s a long moment of silence as Reinhardt absorbs this new bit of information.

 

“You saw him?”

 

“Well, not him exactly, but I saw his hook. Ya gotta take me back there,” Junkrat answers honestly.

 

“I cannot do that. You know that I cannot. You’re under house arre-” Reinhardt begins as he walks farther into the room.

 

Junkrat screeches in frustration and marches up to the giant soldier. “I don’t care! He’s my friend! My best mate!”

 

Reinhardt frowns down at him, his eyebrows curving up in a wounded look. “We’re your friends.  _ I’m _ your friend. Are we not close?”

 

Junkrat has the good grace to flush in shame as he scratches the back of his neck. “Rein… please.”

 

The mattress sags under Reinhardt’s impressive frame and he sighs deeply. “No, Jamison I cannot help in this manner. Besides, he does not carry the same protections as you do. And you do not know that he’s alive for sure.”

 

“Course he’s alive! I saw him!”

 

Reinhardt’s face pulls into a pained grimace. “Junkra-”

 

“No! Only he can call me that! Shut up! You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to lose someone, someone you fought beside and cared about too,” Junkrat snarls.

 

Bed springs squeak as the large German slams a fist onto the bed. “You cross a line, Jamison!” His anger is quick, which frustrates Junkrat, who is keyed up enough to fight someone. “I know exactly your feelings. Captain Amari,” he begins but Junkrat cuts him off.

 

“Granny!?”

 

That pulls a booming laugh from the huge soldier. “To hear her called that pleases me. But yes, Ana. I believed her dead once.”

 

“Okay, but Hog and I-”

 

Reinhardt cannot help the sheepish grin and blush from sliding over his face.

 

Tension leaves Junkrat’s body as he cackles. “Ya never told me!”

 

“A gentleman never kisses and talks, or so I’ve been taught.”

 

Junkrat squawks at the implied insult and offers a one-fingered salute. “Okay, right, but was she-”

 

“No more personal questions about this or her. Understand only that I do know what you have felt.”

 

Junkrat paces back and forth, chewing on his finger nails in bid to keep himself busy as he thinks of another point to argue. “Okay, but I’ve told you loads about Hog and me.”

 

“Not at my request. And again. Gentlemen do not speak, and perhaps you are not… well, your charms lie elsewhere.”

 

“Well that’s a fine way to compliment a bloke.”

 

Reinhardt chuckles and extends a hand to him, inviting him to sit beside him. Junkrat ignores it, but sits beside him anyway. “There are other people who make use of chain or hooks in combat…Brigitte can wield her weapon with impressive accuracy and it is quite effective.”

 

“Piss off, not like my Roadie she can’t. Only one person can hook like he can - been yanked away from danger a couple of times - I would know. So it ain’t some sheila with a mace, what takes no skill to hook, just hit, who has penis envy-”

 

That earns Junkrat a cuffed fist at his ear. “Watch your mouth.”

 

“Oi! What was that for!”

 

“You are calmer - you are making jokes. The meeting is almost over and you will have to give a statement. I suggest you use a flashback as an excuse. It is not unusual for those in battle to suffer from,” Reinhardt suggests.

 

“Whoop di doo, more proof that I’m a crazy junker. Great idea,” Junkrat snarks.

 

“I… I would not tell them what you have told me. You are under contract with Overwatch. Bide your time. I will help you find any clues if there are any to be found. I do not know what would happen should Overwatch find your partner though,” Reinhardt says before standing. 

 

“No one will hurt Roadie,” Junkrat says, his voice laced with promised carnage.

 

“Then I would play things safe.”

 

“Yeah, alright. Now piss off before the big monkey comes looking for me,” Junkrat says and prods the man with his peg leg.

  
  
  



End file.
